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“Fine, but nothing berry!” Cat calls. “I’m allergic to berries.”
“Not liking them isn’t an allergy,” I remind her. She’s so melodramatic. The first time I met her, she acted like her throat was closing up from the sight of some blueberries in a bowl. I can’t abide the theatrics.
Cat flops beside me on the bench. She wasted no time throwing on her tiny bikini and sheer pink wrap. She’s treating this like an actual vacation when it’s anything but.
“You really need to be more careful,” I say to Cat. “I can’t be with you all the time, especially since we don’t share a villa. If you don’t want me to put you on a leash, I suggest you learn to stop barking.”
“When do we get to kill someone?” she asks as she gazes out at the water. “I thought this was a murder retreat.”
“I don’t know. I haven’t read the event brochure yet because I’ve been a little busy.”
“Making eyes at Ezra?” She waggles her eyebrows.
“No. That was a fling, and it’s over now.”
She licks her lips and fights off a grin. “I dunno. I saw the way he was watching you.”
I smack her arm as the men approach. Mullet guy hands a drink to Cat, but Ezra is empty-handed. Which is fine by me. I want to keep my head for the remainder of the week, and alcohol won’t help me do that.
“Kindra, do you fancy a walk on the beach?” Ezra asks.
I turn to face him. “Only if you aren’t planning on avoiding my eyes the entire time.”
“Eyes are overrated, pet. I have other things I want to look at.”
His words are meant as a joke, but I don’t find them funny. I’m still mad at him. He went from an endearing British man who gave me endless orgasms to...well, this.
If he has an issue with banging a psychopath, then I don’t know what to tell him. And I don’t know that a walk will help. It’s not my fault that his radar is off. I knew what he was the moment he pulled out his bag of tricks. I guess he could have been going to a BDSM conference or something, but I just knew this man and I had more in common than our intense desire to explore each other intimately.
But closure is always nice, and the only way I’ll get any answers will be by talking to him.
“Fine,” I say. “I’ll go for a walk with the man who’s shrugged me off like a used jacket.”
What else am I going to do? Spend time with Cat? I’d rather die.
Ezra winces and holds his hand toward me, but I ignore it and stand under my own power and start toward the water.
The sand darkens where the waves have lapped against the shore. It feels better on my feet than the loose granules. Sandpipers rush in and out with the water, skittering around on toothpick legs as they search for food.
Ezra catches up to me, and we walk alongside each other in silence as the ocean gathers around our feet. The water is surprisingly warm. I don’t know what I was expecting, but I’ve never been to the beach before. I’ve always been landlocked or surrounded by lakes and rivers, never a vast ocean like this.
Despite the serenity, one question nags at me.
“Why?” I ask.
Well, that was shorter than I expected.
“Why what, pet?”
“Don’t say that sweet word with your endearing British accent. You fucked me and then acted like you wanted nothing to do with me.”
“It’s complicated, Kindra.”
“Then uncomplicate it,Ezra. Don’t want anyone to know you’re fucking the fat chick? Is that it?”
He takes a deep breath, his dark eyes scanning the water before jumping to me. “Fucking you was a privilege and not something I would ever be ashamed of.”
“Then what happened?”
